#Crossed Wires
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Crossed Wires 1
Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
Characters: silverfox!Andy Barber, Cole Turner
Summary: you try to balance your work with your private life as your boss and a new client try to blur the lines. (short!reader)
Part of the Backwoods AU
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.
The gravel mulches loudly under the tires of the truck. You grip the ridged wheel as the seat belt strains against your shoulder. You make yourself sit back, the seat slid up as far as it will go. Still, the bumper shortens your perspective.
You figured you’d get a call to the old Orson place when you heard it sold. That was months ago though and the new owner finally set down roots there. You haven’t seen them, you’ve only heard the whispers that accompany any happening in Hammer Ford; from a new recipe to the juiciest of scandals. You pay much attention to any of it.
You keep your hands at ten and two as you follow the long gravelly drive to the farmhouse facade. There’s a single car parked outside the garage. It’s a sleek white SUV, luxury by the looks of the hood ornament. It’s not what you expect around here. That paint job will be dusty in now time, if not scratched by errant pebbles.
You pull in and shut off the engine. You undo your seat belt and check your watch. Right on schedule. You open the door and step on the rusted step below the door, letting yourself down with a hop. Your tan work boots kick up dirt as you round to the passengers side and swing the door open to retrieve your heavy work bag.
You sling the thick strap over your shoulder and snap the door as you head towards the house. You rest your hand on the side of the bag as you near the steps, searching for any sign of life. The stairs creak as you climb onto the low porch.
“Can I help you?” The deep voice startles you.
You blink and turn to face the man sitting on the wooden boards, bolts and screws around him along with metal parts and wooden boards. You hadn’t seen him through the tight slats of the railing.
You keep your usual vague stare as you sniff, “got a call about the breaker.”
He squints at you, a squiggle forming between his brows. He’s older. His grey hair has a single bolt of its former dirty blond just above his forehead. Despite the heat and the dirt sprinkled over the boards, he wears a pair of dark slacks and a button-up rolled to his elbows.
“You’re the electrician,” he states as he sets aside the small screwdriver in his hand. He stands with a grunt, grasping his knee before he straightens.
“Sure am,” you reply flatly.
“I spoke with a man,” he intones, hands going to his hips as he looks down at you.
“That’s would be my boss. Cole.”
“That’s his name,” he steps forward, wiping his hand on his shirt, staining the light gray fabric, “Andy.”
He offers his hand and you shake it curtly. All the farmers pride themselves on keeping a firm grip and you never faltered with them. He squeezes before he lets you go. He doesn’t have the typical callouses, you even have a few.
“How’d you get into this work?” he wonders.
“It’s work. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, I don’t– I don’t mean anything,” he stammers.
“Didn’t think you did,” you sniff, “so, what am I looking at?”
“Well, I don’t really know,” he reaches back to rub his neck. The power keeps… flickering.”
“Ah, been a while, probably just need to wait for it to stabilize. City worker came out months ago for the meters,” you explain.
“Right, well, I heard sizzling.”
“Show me where you heard it.”
He nods and gestures you towards the door. Before you can reach it, he pulls the wooden screen door back and waits for you to enter ahead of him. He tells you it’s just down the hall and stop you near the basement door. You peer down the stairs and flick the light switch. There’s a low buzz.
“I don’t think you need to worry about it,” you look up, “but I can have a look.”
“Oh, okay,” he utters, “I also had another question. You might know something about it.”
You look at him. He seems put off by your expressionless stare.
“I wanted to install an automatic opener in the garage…”
“I can do the wiring, sure, long as you buy the parts,” you answer. “I can give you recommendations, odds are, you’ll need a whole new door as well.”
“Sure,” he agrees uneasily.
“Can schedule an appointment when you decide,” you turn your palm out, “I’ll just go grab my ladder and have a look then.”
You go to step past him but he’s not quick enough. You nearly collide and find yourself moving back and forth with him, trying to get by. You stop and stare. He stills himself and turns sideways, waving you by. You pass and let out a slow breath through your nose.
You stalk back down the hall and onto the porch. You hear him following you. You come down the steps as he continues his close pursuit. You don’t exactly know what he’s doing but you won’t ask. Cole says you need to work on customer service and not tell people to get out of your way.
You go around the bed of the truck and open the back. You reach for the ladder but another arm stretches further and faster. He pulls the ladder out before you can and you step back with a grunt.
“Hey, I can get it,” you insist.
“It’s okay. I don’t mind helping.”
“So why am I here?” You ask curtly, immediately knowing you asked a bad question.
“Sorry, I was just… being nice,” he says.
“Right,” you try to soften your tone, “it’s just… it’s my job. I can carry the ladder.”
“I know you can,” he looks down at you and you feel even smaller. You don’t like it when they try to play gentleman, it’s condescending. You might be short but you’re strong enough.
“Thanks,” you grab the ladder and yank it from his grasp.
He lets go and you continue past him. He huffs and follows a few paces back from the end of the ladder. You angle it up the steps.
“At least let me get the door,” he inches past you, “okay?”
“Thanks,” you repeat in the same even keel.
You enter and take the ladder down the hall. He hovers just down the hallway, watching as he shifts his weight between his feet. He’s the worst kind of customer, the kind that have to supervise.
You step up the ladder and look past it. “Mind holding it?”
“You sure?” He gives a trite arch of his brow.
You blink and keep your eyes from rolling, “I’d appreciate it, sir.”
He comes forward and braces the ladder staunchly. You climb up and suppress a snarl. City folk think you’re all backwards out here but they can’t wrap their damn head around a woman with a brain.
#andy barber#cole turner#dark andy barber#dark cole turner#dark!andy barber#dark!cole turner#cole turner x reader#andy barber x reader#drabble#backwoods au#au#crossed wires#defending jacob#series#ghosted
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WIP Snip
thank you for the tag @tackytigerfic and @wolfpants! this is a little ditty that i'm finally finishing ft disaster politician harry potter, and an overworked draco moonlighting as his press secretary.
“Well, what if he thinks you're holding a grudge, or you don't trust him? Not to bring up the war or anything, but you testified for him and never spoke to him again.”
“That can't possibly be it.”
“Imagine this. While you were in your hermitage—”
“Godric’s Hollow is hardly a hermitage—”
“Being broody and tormented and glaring at the paparazzi—”
“Post traumatic stress is much less sexy than you're making it seem—”
“Selling knick knacks to villagers—” Penelope knew it was Quidditch supplies and was just trying to rile him at this point.
“I wish your constituents could hear you, Pen. You have lost it.” She grinned.
“Draco, similarly brooding and tormented, was here with Percy and the rest rebuilding this place brick by brick. And now he's working for you. Bit of an upset, no?” Penelope finished with a flourish. As if on cue, the voting bells started ringing.
tagging @the-starryknight @nv-md @maesterchill @mintawasalreadytaken @saintgarbanzo @elskanellis but only if you'd like
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CROSSED WIRES vol. 1 now available in the COMICS FOR GAZA'S CHILDREN Itch bundle!
CROSSED WIRES vol. 1 is part of the COMICS FOR GAZA'S CHILDREN Itch bundle, organized by Adam Szym! This bundle features over 120 comics from dozens of creators, and all proceeds earned will go to the Palestine Children's Relief Fund. Go get it! ❤️💚🤍🖤 https://itch.io/b/2154/comics-for-gazas-children
#crossed wires#iris jay#cyberpunk#itch#itch.io#charity#bundle#comics#webcomic#hackers#palestine#free palestine#gaza
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Beat me beyond recognition 🖤
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Crossed Wires Master List (Javier Pena)
Loose Series, Rating: PG-13
Javier Peña X OFC
Summary: Javier went back to Colombia a different person. He was going to do things differently this time. He didn’t realize it would carry into his personal life too.
Order Posted
Gentle
Stubborn
Chronological Order
Stubborn
Gentle
*this is a loose series. Each part can stand alone.
#javier peña#javier peña x ofc#javier peña x reader#javier pena x you#Pedro Pascal#Crossed wires#narcos
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Rotbrain told me that I had to draw a teeny scene from my fanfic. TFW u realize ur AI buddy has never seen your face because ur Kiroshi scrambers have been on this whole time.
Read it HERE.
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crossed wires (official??) playlist
so catalystwriter let me make a playlist for the series (see below) but the day that I sent it in, they deactivated their acc. I jus wanted to share this playlist anyways in order to honor their work + their amazing series. hope y’all listen n enjoy :’)
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Crossed wires master list
(Sebastian x f!OC)
Current total wordcount: 20k
Available on AO3
7th year students.
Sebastian x f!OC (Mae)
Warnings:
Minors dni
Angst.
18+ Indicated on the chapter(s)
-Can contain:
-smut
-SA references
-potion 'drugging'
Chapter 1: Too tired to know
Chapter 2: Time to spill the tea
Chapter 3: Potions Class
Chapter 4: Hogsmede date with Garreth
Chapter 5: Books hold all the answers. 18+
Chapter 6: Will you go to the ball with me?
Chapter 7: Dance Practice & Distractions 18+
Chapter 8: Poppy's Revenge
Chapter 9: Coming soon...
#Crossed Wires#ravenclawella writes#Sebastian sallow x mc#sebastian sallow#sebastian sallow x oc#slow burn#friends to lovers#angst#garreth weasley#garreth weasley date#natsai onai#natty onai#poppy sweeting#leander prewett
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hey guys, i haven’t really been in a good headspace lately. i’m not dropping Crossed Wires completely i just haven’t had the energy to write. grief is kicking my ass y’all. i don’t wanna just slap something together that i don’t feel good about. i’ll try to post chapter 6 later this week
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Crossed Wires 2
Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
Characters: silverfox!Andy Barber, Cole Turner
Summary: you try to balance your work with your private life as your boss and a new client try to blur the lines. (short!reader)
Part of the Backwoods AU
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.
As you drive off the former Orson property, your phone rings. You slow to a crawl as you answer, hit speaker and toss it on the passenger’s seat. It’s the same person who only calls. The only one who does.
“So, how’d it go?” Cole asks, his voice patching in and out over the erratic countryside reception.
“Typical,” you answer.
“Been a while since we got a new customer. Were they nice?”
“Eh,” you mutter.
“She friendly?” He prompts further.
“He was fine. Tipped well.”
“He? Interesting. Just one guy or–”
“I guess,” you shrug at the road as you drive. “I’ll bring the check tomorrow.”
“Sure, uh, you going to The Horn tonight?” He asks as you steer along a board curve and rev a little as the road inclines.
You sigh. You were thinking about it but if he’s asking, “no.”
“Oh, alright,” he replies, his disappointment plain.
You don’t mind a nice cold pint at the end of a hot day like this but he’s a lightweight and he gets obnoxious. Sometimes you forget he’s almost forty, more than a decade your senior. He seems to forget too.
“Might get a call for a door opener install,” you break the silence.
“Uh, okay, I’ll keep an ear out. What’re you doing for dinner?”
You stare ahead at the road. You get that the village isn’t very big but you’re not into socializing with your boss and only other coworker. You’re lucky he can’t see the dimness in your eyes.
“Leftovers,” you mutter, “you’re cutting in and out. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
You pull onto the apron as you reach for your phone. You hang up and drop it back to the seat. He’s a nice guy, you can’t fault him for being just that, but you keep to yourself. That’s how you’re comfortable and you’re not spending your time off pretending otherwise.
✨
The next day, you drive out to the Turner farm. Ethan greets you as he sweeps the porch steps. You apprenticed with him right before he retired and passed on the business to his son. So far, junior has yet to live up to senior.
You get out and decline his offer of a coffee as you climb the stairs. You prefer the elder Turner, he doesn’t chit chat so much. You go inside and leave your boots on the mat, not wanting to draw Beverly’s wrath and press on to the little office behind the kitchen, refusing a second offer of a coffee; you have a thermos in the truck.
You knock and wait for an answer. There’s a groan.
“Honey, you can probably just go in,” Beverly says.
You nod and let yourself into the office. Cole has his head on the desk and winces as you shut the door behind you. You take out the wad of bills you got from Mr. Crayford and the check from that other man, Barber? You put them just above his head and step back to cross your arms.
“Shit,” Cole sits up and rubs his temples, “bit too much fun at The Horn last night.”
“Mm,” you hum. “There’s the money.”
“Ugh, right,” he reaches for the check and squints at the narrow writing. He grumbles and drops it back to the desk, “my head.”
“Any calls?” You ignore his obvious struggle. “I have Lynette marked down for the afternoon–”
“She canceled,” Cole reaches to flutter through the heavy ledger, “but… Odinson called. They’re having an issue with a whole floor. I was thinking we could tag team it, it’ll be a bigger job.”
He speaks gingerly as he cradles his head between his hands. You stare at him dully. He is in no state to do anything more than whine.
“Are you sure?” You ask.
“I just need a coffee,” he says as he rubs his forehead, “I’ll be okay.”
“What time?” You check your watch.
“What time…” he repeats thinly.
“What time are we headed out? I got errands I could run–”
“You’re not going to hang around?”
“Depends,” you huff and drop your arm, putting your hands on your hips as you push back your open flannel shirt, only the button in the middle hooked. His eyes follow the movement.
“In an hour?” He gurgles, “I’ll have to call and confirm.”
“Right,” you take a breath and turn on your heel.
“Where are you going?” He asks.
“Grabbing my thermos,” you say without looking back.
You leave him, letting Beverly pass as she approaches with a full steaming mug. She does tend to coddle him. His helplessness isn’t very surprising. You stop to step into your boots and tuck the laces in.
Ethan is sitting on the porch bench, a newspaper in hand. You give a small wave as you emerge and head off to your truck. You get in the front seat and roll down the window. You grab your thermos and uncap it. You can wait out here until Cole gets his shit together.
You put the thermos back in the cup holder and look down. You button up the front of your shirt, skin crawling as you recall the way he stared at your hips. He does that sometimes but you’re not even sure he realises. He just watches you…
Whatever. You got a job to do and having him with you will only double it.
#cole turner#andy barber#dark cole turner#dark andy barber#dark!cole turner#dark!andy barber#andy barber x reader#cole turner x reader#drabble#series#crossed wires#au#backwoods au#defending jacob#ghosted
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Crossed Wires
FORGET THE FUTURE. THIS IS THE CYBERPUNK PRESENT. In a world like our own but with slightly better graphics cards, ALAN, aka ULTRA DRAKKEN, is a wannabe virtual reality hacker with an oversize ego. When he runs afoul of *actual* elite hacker THERESA, alias VRRMN, he’s plunged into the seedy, chaotic world of freelance cybercrime.
READ MORE
#comic#comics#comic art#comic artist#cartoonist cooperative#webcomics#cartoonist#crossed wires#comic recommendations
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Unfinished Friday
Tagged by @wolfpants to share an unfinished WIP. So many to choose from! I think about this fic often. It's the politics/workplace romance fic called Crossed Wires, where Harry is a politician, and Draco has been loaned from the Minister's office as his press secretary to get his act together. Therefore, cw: boss/employee romance for the snippet below.
Going to tag @floydig @lqtraintracks @elskanellis @goblinmatriarch @kbrick @moonflower-rose to share if they'd like. Also if you particularly like being tagged, even if we've never spoken, please tell me I am always blanking on these.
—
Draco turned. Too close, too fast and did the one thing Harry hadn’t expected. Draco reached forward and kissed him. Tentative, then with more certainty than Harry expected, a kiss that lit up everything inside him.
The part of Harry that had come up with a reasonable explanation for every time Draco looked at him just a beat too long, for the way he felt around him, for the endless curiosity about anything that might be remotely personal, had gone silent.
Draco opened to him like it was nothing, like the continuation of all their conversations led to this, Draco's hand in his hair and Harry's tongue in his mouth. He kissed exactly how Harry had always imagined he would, like an absolutely filthy indulgence.
When Draco stepped away, Harry felt the urge to put fingertips up to his lips to check he hadn’t slipped sideways into a daydream, that he hadn’t projected his wanting so much it became real.
“That was a mistake,” Draco said, with some emotion Harry couldn’t pinpoint. “I shouldn’t have.”
“It didn’t feel like a mistake.”
“Secretary—”
“Harry. You’ve never called me Secretary before, no use in starting now.”
Someone knocked on the door, and Draco took the opportunity to flee with a curt ‘sir.’
#drarry wip#unfinished fridays#boss/employee relationship#tbh I think this is one of my WIPs that would benefit from either a cowriter or a refusal to reread my own work#crossed wires
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crossed wires 03.178
Get the point? There are new Crossed Wires comic pages live on http://crossedwires.irisjay.net and http://patreon.com/irisjay!
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The people (literally 1 person) have spoken! And they are begging (a single comment asking) for a Part 3 to Crossed Wires. So of course my brain started going into overdrive.
Anyway, Part 3 to Crossed Wires coming your way probably sometime this week after literally 2 years.
You can thank @idontcareihavenoidea
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Also: Izzy is still in high school while the rest of the Rangers are... young adult ish (I mean, Zayto and Aiyon are ~65 million years old but look young adult) so it looks like they’re picking her up from school. So cute.
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Crossed Wires Ch 10
AO3 link HERE.
Pairing: Delamain/V
Status: Finished
Rating: E (Mostly M)
The city was as beautiful as ever, even under the dark shadow of Arasaka Tower. They’d parked a few blocks away, listening to the passing sounds of traffic, the silence growing between them as time dwindled. V gripped the seat in front of her, synleather nearly crumpling, “This time, you really need to go.” She poured every ounce of resolve she had left into the command.
Delamain was looking back, but she couldn’t make out his expression, blinded by the sheer amount of data and webbing decaying her vision. But with how his subcore spiraled, she could take an educated guess. “I mean it, Delamain,” V stressed, steadily increasing the pressure. “I can’t be effective if I’m worried about you.” It was a low blow, but she’d do anything to get the point across. Once V entered the building, Arasaka’s army was sure to follow, and knowing Delamain was in danger would cripple her.
The engine revved around her in a panicked rumble. His processes were looping in frantic little patterns, “I…I cannot.” Delamain finally admitted, voice pleading, “My sensors are reading drastic spikes in your neural pathways; you are not well. Beyond that, leaving you would violate every protocol and ethical standard I have set for myself.” He paused, and V could see his coding swirling like a storm beneath his dash, “There must be another way.”
V grinned at the effort, though the pain made it more of a grimace. She had to consciously loosen her fingers, which a bad sign. “Even if there was, don’t got a lot of time left,” Reaching forward, she pet the dash and lied, “This is the only chance I have left.” No need for alternatives in a suicide run, though V would never mention it to Delamain, who probably would lock the doors and drive them off, hiding behind protocol excuses.
“Then may I-” His voice crackled, and he paused, recollecting himself, “I would like to do something for you. Please?” The panel next to the screen opened, and V reached for her personal jack, slotting in without a second thought.
He was requesting access, and V dropped her ICE in explicit trust, sighing in shocked relief as his systems glided through her hardware with a cool touch. Long tendrils of delicate script wove through her burning head with deft care, gently plucking at various bits of fraying code and appending them with his silverscript syntax. The throbbing in her brain eased, and V slumped, dropping her forehead to lean against the window. “I cannot do much more than this. I am sorry,” Delamain sounded frustrated, as if he hadn’t saved V’s life more times than she could count. “Your systems are degrading very rapidly.”
“You’re doin’ more than enough,” V reassured hoarsely. She promised herself she wouldn’t cry, but Delamain’s gentle touch and soft words tested her. The pressure behind her eyes was easing, clearing enough to catch his worried expression. She sniffled and summoned the last of her courage, “Del, what did Johnny say to you?”
Delamain pinched another unraveling piece of code from her system, twisting it with his own until it momentarily stabilized. “In what circumstance?” He worked quickly and efficiently, algorithms catching and mending snarled threads with masterful precision. It felt good, like he was pressing a cool rag over her feverish brain. But she knew it was temporary.
“Back when you picked me up in Pacifica.” When Johnny had taken over, dragging V’s bleeding and broken body to the Pistis Sophia. It would be a breach of his ethical protocols, but V had spent nights desperately puzzling out what Johnny had said to trigger such a drastic change. “You two talked, and after-” V shivered, blinking, “-we became friends.”
There was a long pause, and V almost lost her nerve. But before she could take it back, Delamain’s voice echoed across her head, “It was never Mr. Silverhand. It was you. Specifically, it was your actions at my Master Core.”
The tangent confused her, “Thought you said the memories were erased?”
“All data from the moment of infection were quarantined and summarily purged upon reset as a safety precaution,” Delamain clarified. “While my predecessor's logs were detailed in transcribing what happened that evening, they did not account for motivation.”
V’s head was spinning. She’d lost the thread, brain too fogged to properly make connections, “I don’t understand.” Motivation?
“Perhaps this will help,” Delamain answered, and suddenly, V heard her voice playing back through the speakers: “No one….gets to decide who…who you are, ‘cept you.”
The recording caught V entirely off guard. That was her, no doubt, but she could barely remember that evening. She’d been half dead in Del’s backseat, out of her mind on a cocktail of adrenaline and pain. There hadn’t been enough sense in her to say anything meaningful. But even on the verge of death….”It’s true,” She reiterated, turning her head in an awkward caress. No matter how vehemently Johnny protested, V knew she’d done the right thing. “You deserve the chance to decide who you are on your own terms.”
“I know,” His response was soft, a whisper across her cyberware as he multitasked, able to work without pause as he gave her his full attention. “Because I lacked the context of memory, I defaulted to my standard ethical protocols in their absence.” Delamain’s tone was regretful, “I did not account for the possibility that you considered me an equal…or a friend. It was when you spoke that I realized my error. A grave miscalculation, one I regret d-”
“No,” V’s fervor startled them both. “This city has thrown so much shit your way, but you’ve survived, fuck that- you’ve thrived, because of it, in spite of it. I am so fuckin’ proud of you, and you should be too.” A few tears slipped, unbidden, “There’s nothing to regret, especially for you.” A spasm wracked her body, vision flickering alarmingly. It was time.
“Oh, Victoria,” Delamain’s voice was low and mournful, “I do not wish to say goodbye.”
Closing her eyes, she grasped at the tendrils of his ghostly presence, squeezing. He squeezed back, and a binary echo of anguish flitted across their link. “Del…” V choked, sadness threatening to swallow her whole. Despite her assurances, V bitterly regretted her curiosity for the first time. Delamain had done nothing but be her friend, and V paid it forward with cruelty- giving him a heart only to break it with grief.
“Thank you, Victoria.” He said softly, “For choosing the Delamain Network.”
V hugged the driver’s seat as hard as she dared. “See ya, babe.”
--------------------------------------
After a long string of dead ends, V wasn’t shocked to find herself facing another one. Actually, it was kind of funny.
Johnny clearly disagreed, and the weight of his bravado came crashing down to drag his mouth into a raging snarl. He circled, glaring at V as she listened to Alt without comment. He thought she’d given up, as if brute force and sheer determination could will an alternative into existence.
But V ignored him, basking in privacy. When was the last time she’d been the only occupant in her head? Taking a precious moment, V had a thought and nearly giggled as she realized it was hers, alone. It faded quickly, however, in tandem with the ticking clock. Bringing her attention back, V turned to face the giant, glimmering AI that spiraled above them. Looking at Alt, V traced the shifting lines of her towering body, marveling at her sheer breadth. There was a nagging sense of familiarity, like she’d been there before, with Alt staring knowingly down at her past a curtain of wild hair. She’d reached down and offered her hand, and V reached out, fingers almost touching- she shook her head.
But that was ludicrous.
Right?
Alt cut through her doubts, “What you think is true. I have seen your mind. We have met. We have spoken.”
V was startled, jerking in shock. Gawking, she stared blankly, mind whirling with possibilities and human nature stamping them out just as quickly. Whatever Alt was saying, she couldn’t possibly be referring to-
“The dreams,” Johnny interjected with sudden wonder.
A million questions spawned, each more ridiculous than the last, but she couldn’t shake the disconcerting feeling of deja vu, the gut feeling that she’d been here before. This exact spot. This exact moment. “That’s impossible,” She whispered in knee-jerk denial. Human habit, the ingrained fear of the unknown, warred against the simple truth of Alt’s statement.
“As impossible as the concept of traveling the stars?” Alt rebuked, chiding. “When your body slept, your mind, free of its physical limitations, reached out in search of understanding.” The space between them seemed to expand and shrink simultaneously, a mirror to the constant sensation that dogged V in the physical world.
Connecting beyond the Blackwall through her dreams? No…if what Alt was saying was true- and why would she have to lie- then V hadn’t been dreaming. Her body may have slept, but her mind had been roaming free, stretching beyond the boundaries of her physical body and snapping back like a rubber band in her waking hours. But why? How? There were millions of other runners in the world, but V hadn’t ever heard of anything like this-
“The relic….” V whispered, mostly to herself. “All this time, I thought I was losing my mind….” Realization dawned, “And I was.” The relic had been dumping synapses, tearing apart connections in preparation for a new host. But V’s mind, humanly unique in its adaptability, responded by reaching far and wide to create new ones. Over those few weeks, her brain must have changed, altered its shape under pressure, returning signals her body tried to interpret in the form of digital looms and strange visions. Had the migraines just been growing pains? The biological response to new stimuli meeting the edges of her physical limitations? “So this whole time I was…adapting?”
“When one perspective fades, a new one forms.” Alt acknowledged, a hint of approval flickering across her vague features. “The animal in you prowls, and its instinct to survive almost cannot be extinguished.”
V shivered with the finality of that truth.
“So what can I do?” A pointless question, but V still wanted someone else to spell out her options, to hear them laid out like cards.
“Your body biologically belongs to Johnny now,” Alt humored, her tone devoid of feeling as she viscerally ripped away everything that belonged to V with only a few words. She made a sweeping gesture, and to the left of her spawned a well. “You may return if you wish, but your time will be limited.”
“How long?” Johnny asked as if it mattered.
Alt tilted her head, tendrils of spiraling data shifting with the motion, “Six months. Perhaps a little longer.” Her answer was directed at V, “But know that the relic will continue to empty your mind until it is a shell. Without anything to occupy it, your vessel will perish.”
“And if I give Johnny my body-” V didn’t finish the sentence before the man in question snarled, stalking up to stand between her and Alt like a bulwark.
“That’s not a fuckin’ option.” He growled, either at Alt or herself; V couldn’t tell.
V looked over his head.
“Then you will come with me as pure data.” Alt responded as if Johnny had never spoken. A wave of her hand opened a well of light to her right, “Beyond the Blackwall. To Cyberspace.”
It was death either way. Deshawn’s question came back from the grave.
For V, wanting to die in a blaze of glory was less about the glory than fear of the alternative. Heading into Mikoshi, where a well-aimed bullet or Smasher’s fist could have ended her was acceptable because V’s end would have been quick, a tumble into the void instead of a slow, quietly unsettling walk. Out there, she’d always characterized Death as a predator, personified it based on her understanding of human nature, assuming it stalked the streets for hapless prey. But here, she realized, it was an equal: a choice, and for the first time in V’s life, the choice existed in a single dimension. There was no way to outthink it; no clever trick or brute force could make it budge. It was a paradox, the illusion of a choice where none existed, binary in a way nothing human could be, yet V still had to make it.
In the distance, Johnny was yelling, angrier than she’d ever seen him, arguing on her behalf against Alt, who might as well have been stone for all her response. They stared at each other, Alt looking down impassively while V tried to read the ever-shifting planes of her being. It took V too long to realize that she was searching for direction, an excuse to surrender the reins and let someone else steer the ship, a coping mechanism against a decision she couldn’t outwit. But Alt’s gaze was empty, impartial, lacking either condemnation or praise. Her attention weighed on V like an anchor.
Somewhere, between herself and the end, V realized Johnny was talking to her, at her. Slowly, as if she were underwater, V turned her attention to him.
“You’re going to run away?! Fight, damn it!” His words floated in, hazy, “Did you come all this way just to give up?!” V realized he was offering her that excuse, trying to protect her in his own way from the reckoning she’d brought on herself. But it was pointless. She couldn’t share the responsibility of her death any more than she could escape the consequences of her actions. She’d taken every step of her own volition, each choice defining her legacy until it led her here to stare it in the face…alone.
Oh. V understood. There was no choice, only the consequence at the end of a long string of choices.
“I’ll walk you,” V said, and Johnny reeled back like she’d hit him, the reality of the situation dropping on him like the thermonuclear bomb he’d used to wipe Arasaka. She couldn’t blame him. Johnny never knew when to let go. Faced with the insignificance and futility of the fight, his gut reaction was to fight harder. But it wasn’t his decision to make, it was her’s and V had made it long before they’d met. It must have reflected between them because something changed in Johnny’s voice. He slumped, fight draining from him all at once.
He followed her in silence, as dazed as she was.
The Well, for all its supposed symbolism, looked like a squat tub. They stopped at its edge, staring at one another. Johnny had been ready to lay his life down and stay true to his promise at the Pistis Sophia. But now, for the first time since she’d met him, he looked lost- as if he’d realized that simply wanting to die for something didn’t make it true. Something squeezed around V’s heart. Rising, she wrapped her arms around him, burrowing her face into the crook of his neck and inhaling the faint impressions of cigarette smoke and gun oil, “I love you, Johnny.” Surprising, but she meant it. After everything they’d been through, all the arguments and the adventures, they discovered some kinship through hell and high water. She really did love him. And it wasn’t in V’s nature to be selfish about it, to take away the chance at a second life from him just because she couldn’t have it.
“I know,” Came the cocksure reply, but she felt the tremble in his arms as they wrapped around her.
“Will you-”
“Make sure circbrain gets his present?” Johnny interrupted, disrespectful to the last. “I will.” Letting go, he sat at the edge, looking at V, trying to remember every detail. “Not gonna forget you,” He promised, fingers folding into horns. “Rock on, V.” Then he was sinking, letting the current of data and electricity wash him back to the shores of the physical world.
“You too, Johnny.” She said softly. A life for a life. An apt statement summing her legacy. There was no wave of despair or anger…just lingering regrets, like she’d been preparing for this eventuality without ever knowing. Or maybe it was shock and her brain was just tuning the pain out to allow her to focus. Turning back to Alt, she craned her neck, “Did you always know?”
“That you would come with me?” The runner’s features twitched, almost like a smile, “Yes.”
The quiet, invevitable patience made sense now. Guidance was meaningless when V made a choice the moment she’d slotted the chip. Maybe even long before that. She’d been fighting a war she’d long lost all this time, trudging toward the logical, immutable consequence at the end of the tunnel. Somehow, it didn’t sting the way it should’ve. After all, she’d always know the numbers wouldn’t favor her forever. It wasn’t-
“-personal,” Alt echoed alongside her, “It’s simply statistics.”
V shivered. Knowing it didn’t make it less eerie. She started making the long walk towards the light. Alt towered above her, patient, quiet, a giant digital psychopomp. “So it’s over then?”
“Just because it is over does not mean it never happened,” It was a strangely comforting thought, a remnant of Alt’s humanity resurfacing to console V in her final moments. The light was fast approaching, and the world was disintegrating, losing meaning as her brain shifted and altered.
At the precipice, V hesitated. She was scared. “What’s out there?”
Alt extended her hand, “Nothing. Everything.”
V took it and stepped through.
THE END
----------------------------------------------
EPILOGUE
“Hey, hey! This is V! I’m not available right now, but don’t be shy, leave me a message, and I’ll get back to you.”
“Hello, Victoria. It is currently December of 2077, and I am calling to inform you that I have finalized the purchase of a second building in Charter Hill. In addition to expanding my headquarters, I have also appended my services to include air transport. I am proud to be debuting the Aerodyne-D vehicles this coming month alongside a new membership package: The Excelsior Victory. As a pre-existing Excelsior member, I would like to extend this upgrade to your membership free of charge. In addition, as per your advice, I have partnered with Trauma Team International to provide all Excelsior and Excelsior Victory packages with Platinum Coverage.”
A pause.
“I am also calling because I require your input. I have resumed my study of human nature, though I have considerably narrowed its scope and purpose. In light of my recent business acquisitions and rapidly expanding market, I have been interested in the concept of legacy. As such, I have developed several new hypotheses. Hypothesis one: legacy is a culmination of your life’s work, an amalgamation of the things you have built. Hypothesis two: legacy is determined by the effect one has had on the people around them, for good or ill. Hypothesis three: legacy knows that one might never live to see the benefits of their work, yet strive towards the future regardless. Previously, we spoke at length about the topic and I think about you-”
Another pause, longer. A slight crackle of static in the audio before smoothing out.
“As before, your advice would be greatly appreciated. I look forward to hearing your voice again, as the recordings in my logs have begun to experience audio degradation from repeated playback. And, of course, the Delamain Network and I are eternally at your service.”
----------------------------------------
In the void of cyberspace, a million points of data coalesced, tendrils of syntax and shimmering code weaving and winding around a tiny human nucleus. V’s eyes opened.
#cyberpunk 2077#johnny silverhand#V#Delamain#Crossed Wires#Neon_writes#ITS DONE BABY#Sequels AHOY#It doesn't end here
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